Yesterday I passed through Granard, and stopped for a very touristy photo-opportunity at the Market House, where the Granard Balls were held in the 1780s, which gathered together the last of the old Irish harpers.
We popped in to the very atmospheric hotel next door, and also noticed the aptly named bar across the road, and reminisced about the tales Ann Heymann has told us, of the times she played in Granard in the early 1980s.
Today is a peaceful quiet day in Connemara. There was a morning haze but the sun is trying to burn through.